


Stuck

by OCWotchny



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OCWotchny/pseuds/OCWotchny
Summary: Struggling to deal with unreciprocated feelings, Gran finds help in an unconventional ally.He'd be lying if he said he was happy with it, though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is a granblue

The battle is over. After what had felt like hours of throwing everything they have at the demon, Gran and his party had finally driven Belial into the ground. His body, so much smaller without six wings protruding from the back, was slowly beginning to dissolve into thin, shadowy wisps. Gran looks back at his teammates; Katalina, leaning over her sword similar to a cane; Lancelot seems to barely be standing upright, heaving for breath. Even Vyrn, their fearless mascot, is having trouble staying up in the air. Finally, Gran’s eyes fall onto Vane, who is currently lying in a heap on the ground. There’s a faint rise and fall of his armor that lets Gran know that, for the most part, he’s alright. With shaky steps, he makes his way over to the man and kneels to the ground, putting a hand on his shoulder and offering a weary smile.

“Hey,” he says, giving the knight a little shake. “C’mon, Vane. Get up. We did it, yeah? He’s down. We won.”

There’s a good minute of silence until Vane finally replies, his voice muffled and exhausted as he speaks towards the ground. “Did we?” he says, sounding incredibly small for someone so large. “Woo…! We did it! Yeah.” He feigns excitement, raising his fist in a mock ‘hurrah’ before letting it fall back to the earth, still face-first in the dirt. Gran’s smile softens, and he pats Vane’s hand sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a light chuckle. “We did, big guy. You were great out there.” There’s a beat, and he takes the chance to lace their fingers together. Vane’s hand is warm, and impossibly bigger than his own. “Thanks for helping me, earlier. You really saved my rear end, you know that?” He gives his hand a little squeeze, which prompts a snort from Vane. He finally rolls over and offers a charming grin, reaching up to ruffle Gran’s hair (and is awarded with puffed cheeks and a glare).

“Hey, I’m just doing my job! What kind of knight would I be if I couldn’t even keep my own captain safe, huh?” He laughs, but it’s interrupted by a grunt of pain when he tries to sit up. Clutching his chest, Vane coughs and furrows his brows together while Gran moves to put his hands on his shoulders to steady him, face concerned. “God if it didn’t hurt, though. Bastard got me right in the solar plexus; it still hurts to breathe, honestly.”

Indeed, his voice is a little hoarse, which attracts the attention of their crew who have since regained a little stamina. Lancelot makes his way over swiftly, immediately launching into helping his fellow Dragon Knight to his feet and checking to make sure he’s okay. They chatter a little, and Gran watches from his place on the ground as they both slowly begin to drift off in the direction of the ship. It’s only a miniscule difference, but Vane looks-- happier, almost. A little less tired, a little brighter than before. No one else could catch the shift in demeanor, but Gran does.

He wishes he didn’t, though.

Katalina approaches him from behind as he rises to his feet, dusting off his pants and gently patting at a scorch mark on his cheek. She places a hand on his back, and when he looks at her he finds concern in her eyes.

The corners of her mouth turn downward into a frown, and she guides them both in the direction the rest of their team had gone. “Are you alright?” She asks finally, letting him go once it’s clear he can stand on his own. “The battle was harsh, and you took a lot of blows you probably could have avoided. I know you don’t want to see Lyria worried, right?” She tries a smile, and he responds in turn. “Come on. When we get home, I’ll make you a cup of tea and something to eat. Sound good?”

Gran snorts, unsure if she’s joking or not. “I’ll pass on the food, Katalina, but tea sounds nice. Thank you.”

Katalina doesn’t quite get what he means, but seems satisfied all the same. “Tea it is, then,” she says, continuing on with making her way back to the ship.

* * *

 

“Ouch!” Gran yelps, jerking away from where Lyria had touched a moist cotton ball to his face. She gives him a stern glare, and, despite her little-girl appearance, is several times more intimidating than anything Gran has seen in his life. He coughs and swallows his pain, sitting up straight and squeezing fistfuls of his pants to try and grit through the stinging pain as Lyria prods some of the scratches and burns left on his face.

“Oh, stop whining!” She chastises, irritated at how much of a baby he’s acting. “I know this isn’t the worst thing you’ve gone through, so just hush and bare with me for a minute. We’re almost done.”

It’s almost funny how strict she’s asking, Gran thinks, wincing as she presses more alcohol to a burn mark just below his eye. Sweet Lyria, who had once been so quiet and reserved, now bossing him around and taking charge of an entire army. He’s proud, oddly enough. Katalina must be as well.

“What?” He hears from beside him, so lost in thought he hadn’t realized he’d laughed or that she’d finished. “What’s funny, Gran?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing, really,” he admits. “Just you. You’ve changed a lot since we’ve met, you know?” He cocks his head in her direction, a fond expression on his face. “It’s almost like you’re a different person, sometimes. I like it, though! Confidence suits you.”

Her face brightens immediately, smile warmer than the sun. “You think?!” She asks excitedly, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “Aw, Gran. You’ll make me blush.” A giggle, and she returns to putting supplies away. With her back turned, he can’t see her face, but he knows she’s still smiling. It makes him feel a little better.

“I don’t know,” she continues, voice quiet as though she’s mulling over what to say. “I just… I think about what you and everyone else has done for me, and I’d hate to make you all feel… Bad? Guilty? I don’t know what the word is, really. I just know I want to move forward and show all of you that I’m better off than I was before.”

Gran nods, eyes drifting to the ceiling as he leans back in his bed. It’s hard to believe how different she is from when they met, but he’s glad he’s helped her out somehow. They’ve both been through a lot since then, and he now considers her to be one of his closest friends, if not his best.

“How’s Vane?” he asks suddenly, changing the subject. “I.. Only got to talk to him for a brief second after we won, and then he went off with Lancelot. I don’t know if he got healed up or not.”

Lyria stops what she’s doing and stares at the case of medical supplies she’d brought with her, mouth contorting into a grimace. The look she gives him after a beat of silence is filled with concern, and he feels his heart drop a little.

“Oh, Gran…” She starts, crawling onto the bed and settling down on his shoulder. “Vane’s fine, but…” She sighs. “You shouldn’t be thinking about him too much, you know? I know it hurts a lot more than you’ll admit.”

He lets out something akin to a laugh, still looking up at the ceiling. “I know,” he concedes. “It’s just hard to forget, I guess. He’s so… Charming.” He snorts. “I got to hold is hand today.”

Lyria looks up at him, and he can feel her grinning. “You held his hand?”

“Yeah,” he says. “For like, five seconds.”

A hum. “How was that?”

“It was a really nice five seconds.”

“Uh-huh?”

Gran chuckles. “Yeah, it was. He was really warm. His hands are _huge_ , too. It was pretty great.”

Lyria smiles and yawns. “I bet it was,” she says. “But you still shouldn’t cling on to things like that. You know what will happen.”

Neither one of them say anything for a time, and instead Gran focuses on the slow, steady fall of Lyria’s shoulders against his chest. Her breathing quiets after a time, and before he knows it she’s snoring.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a little shake. “Hey, Lyria. Wake up-- go to your own bed, kid.”

She lets out some kind of noise of complaint, unmoving for a few moments before finally lifting herself off of him. Her hair falls in long tresses across her face and shoulders, eyes glued shut as she slides off of the bed. “ ‘m not a kid, Gran,” she mumbles, trudging over to the desk and picking up her box she’d brought with her. He laughs quietly, settling down and crossing his arms between his head and pillow.

Lyria’s footsteps are the only sound in the room as she shuffles out of the room, until she lets out a small grunt of effort as she shifts the box under one arm so she can open the door. “Goodnight, Gran,” she calls as she steps into the hallway, closing it behind her with a click.

“‘Night!” he yells after her, allowing himself a small smile. It fades shortly after, however, instead forgotten as he mulls over the day’s events in his head. His thoughts continuously stray to one knight in particular; on the way he handles a lance, on his bright hair, his strong arms, his kind eyes and smile… With a whimper, Gran turns over in his bed and grabs his pillow, hugging it to his chest and burying his face into it. He squeezes his eyes shut as well, trying to force the thoughts out of his mind so he can sleep.

So stuck in his own head is he that he doesn’t take notice of the shadows that flutter across the walls, dragging over the surface and peeling themselves off like iron fillings following a magnet.

Gran finally lifts his head after he feels a weight press down at the opposite end of his mattress, and nearly screams in fear at the sight before him.

“Hey,” sounds a voice, though the source of it is unknown. There’s a body slowly piecing together, though there’s no head for the creature to speak. Even still, it’s obvious who it is; ashy skin slowly congeals together, covered by an unbuttoned shirt and a flashy fur that begins to manifest as well. “What’s wrong, stud? You look like you’re about to cry! A look like that doesn’t suit you, you know.” It takes a second, but eventually the black wisps that make up the monster’s body form up the head before solidifying. Gran blinks, and before he can register what’s going on, he’s looking into the cold eyes and the deadly smirk of Belial.

Belial reaches over and runs his hand up Gran’s thigh, a purr reverberating throughout the room. “I like seeing you on a bed like this,” he teases, leaning forward and hovering over the younger man. “You look so vulnerable, almost perfect for me to- _oomf!”_

The demon is cut off when Gran’s foot smashes into his face, sending him rolling off of the bed and landing on his back with a harsh thud. “Get _away_ from me!” Gran shrieks, jumping to his feet and grabbing the nearest thing he can use as a weapon (a large, hardcover dictionary. Beggars can’t be choosers, he guesses). “How are you even _here?!_ ” He yells again, launching himself forward and taking a swing to the man’s head before he can even sit up properly. Belial is knocked to the side with another grunt, though he quickly scrambles up to raise his hands in defense.

“Hey, will you-- _ow!”_ He yelps, a loud _thwack!_ resonating throughout the room when Gran hits him again. “Will-” _thwack!_ “You-!” _thwack!_ “Stop--” _thwack! “Hitting me?!”_ **_Thud._ **

He’s managed to stop an oncoming blow with his arm,  and Gran raises the book in preparation for another swat, though seemingly gives him a moment to explain himself-- or at least catch a breath.

“Fuck,” he says, voice muffled as he reaches up and wiggles the bridge of his nose. “I fink you broke my noze.” He sniffs, and gives it a harsh jerk before looking up at Gran with a sleazy expression. “I never knew you liked being so rough! And so small, to-- _ack!_ ”

Gran had interrupted him once again, this time by throwing the dictionary at his head. “Will you stop that?!” He yells, face red and hot from the crass language. “I don’t know if you’re trying to hit on me or kill me, but either way, just-- shut _up!_ ”

Belial’s face drops, and he juts out his lower lip with a huff. “Jeez, fine. Alright. Good to know you’re such a debbie downer. Lighten up a little.”

Gran’s facial expression is nothing less than absolutely baffled. “... We were trying to _kill_ each other not five hours ago,” he says matter-of-factly, staring at the demon on the ground. “I thought I _did_ kill you. And now you’re here, in my room, _not_ trying to kill me.” He blinks slowly, arms dropping to his sides as he processes the situation.

“Well,” Belial begins, rising up and cracking his neck. “To be fair, you definitely did come close; as close as you can for something like me, anyways. Me being a demon, and all that.” He shrugs, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall adjacent to the window sill. Gran doesn’t look pleased.

“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” he says, starting to feel a little irritated. There can’t be any real reason for him being here; he hasn’t tried to start a fight, hasn’t even unveiled his wings. As a matter of fact, Gran can’t feel any kind of malice at all from Belial, just the sickening perverted aura he’s always giving off. Other than that, though, the demon almost came off as… Tame.

Belial grins, as if on cue. “Well, you _did_ beat me fair and square,” he says. “On my honor and as a part of my demon’s aesthetic, I’m obliged to serve you as servant, and you as my master.” He drops to one knee, his right hand coming to rest on his chest and his left tucking behind his back. Gran stares at where he’s bowing without a response, face devoid of emotion.

“... You’re fucking with me,” he says, deadpan.

Belial doesn’t even look up. “I am most definitely fucking you.” Gran kicks him in his knee. “Ouch-! With! I mean fucking with! Jesus.”

With a frustrated groan, Gran rolls his eyes and turns so he can fall back onto his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and massaging his temples to attempt to curb an oncoming headache. Belial sits cross legged on the floor, hands folded neatly in his lap. “In all seriousness, you beating me hurt, a _lot_. Not in the sexy way, either-- I’m sort of,” a nervous laugh. “Well, helpless, honestly. The most I can do at the moment is this:” he raises his hands and makes a gesture, but the most that fizzles out of his fingertips are a few sparks and a puff of smoke. Gran peeks out at the pathetic display, and snorts.

“Not very much,” he chides. Belial shrugs.

“Nope, it isn’t!” He agrees, grinning. “But, I have nothing to do now, and you all are pretty strong. So, I figured I’d tag along with you. Doesn’t that sound grand, captain?”

Gran huffs, crawling back to where he was before on his bed and lying down. “Don’t call me that,” he reprimands. “And if you’re going to stick around, do it somewhere else. It’s late, and I’m exhausted.” With a few more choice words muttered under his breath, he pulls his blankets over his body and shuts his eyes, trying to forget the fact that there’s a demon sitting at the foot of his bed.

After about ten minutes, he cracks his eyes open to see that Belial has changed spots, and is instead sitting a few feet in front of him. He’s staring at Gran’s face intently, and by the looks of it, has been for a while.

“... Can you not watch me sleep?” Gran asks, rolling over and facing the wall. Belial blinks innocently.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” he says. “I don’t need to sleep. So…” He trails off, and Gran sighs.

“Whatever,” he says, giving in. “Do what you want. I don’t really care. Just don’t do anything while I’m sleeping, you creep.”

Belial grins, giving a mock salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

Gran rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have the energy to go after him, and decides to let it go. He closes his eyes and, doing his best to slow down his breathing and relax, tries to go to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for the comments!!! expect semi-regular updates like this

“Why is  _ he _ here?!” 

‘He’ being Belial, who is currently standing complacently behind Gran. There’s a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face, and his hands are shoved casually in his pockets. When mentioned, he perks up like a puppy, and his expression turns into something a little more lecherous.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He says, voice laced with a perverse, teasing tone. “Why, your fearless leader couldn’t stop thinking of me, and wished nothing else than for me to come into his room and spread him ope-  _ hrk! _ ”

Gran, having gotten used to his antics, doesn’t skip a beat to slam his fist directly into Belial’s crotch. “Stop that,” he says, unamused. “She’s only a kid.” The demon crumbles to the ground almost immediately, though it doesn’t do anything to calm Lyria down.

Her face is an equal mixture of fear and confusion, body frozen in space; pointing at Belial, eyebrows furrowed, and jaw dropped. Gran, as mellow as always, is already used to it. He shrugs, which honestly only throws Lyria for even more of a loop. Her finger moves from Belial to Gran, Belial, then back to Gran, then back to Belial once more.

“Did- did you-?!” She stutters, still shifting back and forth. “You didn’t-- not with-- Gran, please tell me you didn’t-!”

Gran gives her a look that tells her she can finish the question if she wants to  _ die _ , and rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Of course not. I’m not  _ that _ desperate. He just popped up, and I’m too lazy to kick him out. He’s harmless, anyways.” Nudging Belial with his foot to get up and follow, he shuffles past Lyria and continues on his route to the mess hall. Lyria lets out a noise in shock, too lost to formulate words for a second.

“Harmless?!” She yells, staring after them as they disappear down the hallway.

* * *

 

Thankfully, the dining area isn’t too full at this time of the morning, and the only people there are a few of the more intense recruits who don’t know enough about Belial to recognize him. Gran yawns when he enters the room, and Belial massages the area where Gran had hit him earlier.

“I never knew you’d like it so rough,” he says, trying to flash a grin (and failing; fuck, that had hurt). If Gran is irritated with the innuendo, he doesn’t show. Belial’s going to have to keep testing the waters to see what’s safe and what isn’t. “But jeez! Harmless?! I can still do some stuff, you know. All of these muscles aren’t just for show.” He fluffs himself up a little for emphasis, standing taller and puffing out his chest. Gran doesn’t even look at him. 

“Sure,” he says, not even sounding like he’s paying attention. “I’m going to get something to eat. Stay here, and…” He breathes in, squeezing his eyes shut to try and keep patient. “Try not to cause trouble for anyone, me included. I really don’t want to have to be explaining myself at…” He strains his eyes for a clock, only to come up empty. “... Whatever time it is. Just, sit still.”

Belial doesn’t say anything, for once. He’s too busy trying to process the fact that Gran had just basically given him orders like he was a dog, which was… Well, as much as every part of his being wants to say “sexy”, it was anything but. He thinks he’s insulted, but considering their history… It may be a little warranted.

He takes the time alone to examine his surroundings, eyeing the few groups of people that had cluttered around the dining area. They’re pretty quiet, with only a few bits and pieces of conversation reaching his ears. Everyone’s facial expressions were subdued and complacent, only breaking with the occasional yawn. Nobody seemed miserable, but… Nobody was ecstatic to be there, either. They just-- were. Is this what life in the Grandcypher is like? A day-to-day rhythm that people become accustomed to? He wonders if he ever will.

His train of thought is interrupted when a plate of food is slid underneath his chin. Gran falls into the seat across from him after, poking at his plate of eggs and toast with a fork. “I thought I’d get you something,” he says, not looking up. “I didn’t know what you’d eat, so I just grabbed a bit of everything.”

‘Everything’ consists of toast and eggs, similar to what Gran has, a single, dime-sized pancake, two strips of bacon, and an apple. Belial stares at it for a moment, unsure of how to feel about the gesture. Gran doesn’t pay attention to him, digging into his own food without a care in the world. Belial blinks, and moves a few bits of food on his plate around with his fork. He doesn’t eat, instead deciding to just watch Gran. He notices after a while, and slowly comes to a stop. Belial is jerked out of his thoughts when the boy clears his throat, and grunts in response.

“... Can you not stare at me all of the time?” He says. “Just… Y’know, eat.”

It takes him a minute to register what he’s said. “Oh,” he says, finally coming up with an intelligent response. “I don’t need to eat.” He pushes the plate and the apple on the side towards Gran.

Gran stares at Belial.

Gran stares at the apple.

Irritated from being up so early in the morning, Belial’s presence, and the fact that he went out of his way for nothing, he does what anyone would do in said situation, and throws it.

It hits Belial smack between the eyes, hard enough that there’s a bit of juice dripping down his nose, and a red mark is already starting to blossom.

Belial stares at the apple, which rolls off of the table and onto the ground. 

Belial stares at Gran.

Irritated from being completely powerless and used as a punching bag with no way to fight back, he does what anyone would do in said situation, and rockets across the table.

Their scuffle isn’t particularly violent, just a lot of hair-pulling, scratching, and name-calling. Gran manages to wrestle Belial to the ground beneath him and nearly gets a punch in, before being tossed aside and tackled himself. A few people have gathered around to watch, with one or two yelling to try and get them to stop or just flat-out encouraging it. They roll around the floor for a solid minute, until-

“BACK AWAY FROM HIM, MONSTER!”

Just as Belial is about to shove what hadn’t been knocked off of his plate into Gran’s face, the captain is snatched away from him and he’s caught in a headlock.

“Who the hell-  _ hrk! _ ” he chokes, feeling the arm tighten against his windpipe. He registers it as a woman’s arm, and soon identifies the stranger as one of the people he’d fought against the day prior. Gran is now several feet away from him, in the arms of a tall, handsome knight who he recognizes as the man who had taken a hit for Gran. His grey eyes hold all of the power and malice of a storm as they bore into him. Gran hasn’t seemed to comprehend the situation yet.

Katalina jerks Belial up, yanking another noise out of him. “How did you get in here?!” She barks, her voice as biting as her blade had been. “What are you doing here?!  _ Why _ are you here?! We beat you, demon! You were nothing more than dust when we left, and yet here you still stand! Explain yourself!”

Gran, finally regaining his senses, struggles against Vane’s hold. The situation is too urgent for him to enjoy his position, especially considering that Katalina looks to be only a few seconds away from snapping Belial’s neck. “Wait!” he yells, pushing against Vane’s chest. “Katalina, let him go! He won’t do anything!”

Katalina stares at him as though he’s lost his mind, unsure what to even say. Vane looks at him funnily as well, though his grip loosens enough that Gran can get free and step forward. 

“He hasn’t done anything, and he’s not here to fight,” Gran explains, stepping forward. Belial lets out a choking sound that sounds a little like a moan, which earns him a few looks.

Katalina scoffs. “‘Hasn’t done anything’?! Do you not remember just how hard we fought him? Do you already forget the havoc he was causing?” Her grip tightens a little, and Belial squeaks. His face is beginning to turn a little red. 

Gran isn’t sure what to say. “I- I know that,” he stutters, stepping forward. “But he’s not here to start anything else. Look, I just-- I don’t think he’ll hurt any of us, alright? If anything, he might be able to help!”

He feels a hand clasp onto his shoulder, and turns around to see stormy blue eyes filled with concern. Vane’s mouth is screwed up into an expression he can’t read, and he feels his heart skip a few beats. Being this close is… one thing, and add onto that the sudden wave of guilt he feels from causing whatever grief is on Vane’s face, which means Gran is currently trying to retain the ability to stand upright. But still…

“Captain,” Vane says, voice somehow both quiet and incredibly deep. “I don’t think that we should let him stay here.”

Even so…

“Please,” he pleads. 

His gut tells him to keep Belial there,

“It’s just not a good idea,”

And his gut is why he’s gotten this far to begin with.

Gran turns away, unable to look at Vane directly. “Katalina,” he says again, voice a little shaky. “Let him go.”

“But- captain!” She protests.

Gran sucks in a breath. “Katalina!” He barks, standing up straight. Her posture goes rigid, conditioned to obey the strict tone of a superior officer. “I didn’t want to do this, but it seems I have to. As your captain and commander, I order you to let this demon go! He is not our enemy, and I see potential in his future as an asset to our army and cause!”

Katalina grits her teeth, and reluctantly lets him go. Belial falls to the ground at her feet, coughing and spluttering while feeling himself up and grinding against the ground. His tongue is lolled out, and his eyes roll back into his head as he groans, a stupidly large grin plastered on his face. Gran tries to ignore him, steadfast in his speech.

“However,” he says, voice grave. “He is not yet our friend, either, and as such, I will personally keep watch over him at all times, until it is deemed that he is safe to be trusted as one of our own men.”

* * *

 

Gran sits at his desk in the captain’s quarters, sunken into the too-large chair overlooking the helm. His chin pushes into his collar and folds up his chin to make him look even more miserable than he already is, and he twirls a decorative flintlock pistol in his hands to give himself something to do. The look that had been on Vane’s face is still imprinted in his head, and he still feels unbelievably guilty having turned his back on him. His stomach turns flips, and his heart feels twisted and constricted in his chest. The reason for his betrayal sits only a few feet away, still looking as blissed out as he had been before. 

“Can you not look like that?” he asks, not looking up from where he’s pouting. “It’s awful just how perverted you are. Were you really getting off to her  _ strangling _ you?”

Belial moans at the mention of it, smoothing his fingertips down his exposed abdomen and brushing over his groin. “It was  _ fantastic _ ,” he says, biting his lip and letting his eyes flutter closed. “She could put me in the ground any day- I’d let her suit up with a strap on and use those arms of her to hold me down and  _ fuck m-” _

Gran cocks the pistol and aims it at him, face red and unamused. “I’ll take you out,” he promises. “I’m already starting to regret having stood up for you.”

Belial’s face changes from one of ecstasy to one of disappointment, a grumpy frown tugging at the corners of his lips as he sighs. “You’re no fun,” he whines, letting his head fall back and hit the wall. Gran grunts. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Gran is about to shake himself out of his self pity so he can get some work done when Belial speaks up again. 

“Thanks, I suppose,” he mutters, head turned away so that Gran can just hear him. “She probably could have actually broken my neck, and it would have sucked having to come back a second time. So, thanks.”

Gran doesn’t say anything, a little shocked that he’d received any kind of appreciation at all. “... Yeah,” he finally replies. “No problem.”

* * *

 

Weeks pass aboard the Grandcypher, and Gran grows accustomed to life with a not-primal demon.

Well, accustomed is an interesting way to put it. More like, he manages to survive.

It isn’t really all that bad, though. Belial mellows out after a few days enough that Gran can talk to him without feeling like he’s being sexually harassed, and as with all new things in life, everyone else gets used to him being there. They don’t talk to him if they don’t have to, but they don’t glare at him like they used to. Lyria finally starts coming into his room again soon enough, which is nice as well. He didn’t realize how much he’d miss the time they spent together until she’d stopped coming around.

One thing that surprises Gran is just how… Mundane, life is with Belial there. They quickly fall into a rhythm with how they go about their day, from morning to night.

Mornings, Gran realizes quickly enough, are the worst times to be around Belial. He figures that the demon thrives on attention, and having to sit there for several hours while your primary source of it is asleep must be absolute agony. He chatters away while Gran eats and brushes his teeth, occasionally making some kind of sexual remark that will earn him a swat to the head. He’s surprisingly well-behaved in the shower, though probably because Gran is the only one there (everyone else showers at night). Once, Gran had made the mistake of telling him to get one as well, and the next time he’d closed his eyes and ducked his head under the water he’d felt hands on his body within seconds.  _ That _ had been quite the story for the repairman, and half of the crew hadn’t let him live it down for  _ weeks _ . Belial had certainly been satisfied with himself in spite of being shoved hard enough to knock a stall door off of its hinges, and had been more handsy after that until Gran had politely (“””politely”””) asked him to stop. 

Hanging out with friends is a bit of an issue, though. They may have stopped actively trying to take him out, but they still stare at Belial as though he’s some kind of rabid dog. Gran would consider just leaving him at home, but with as bothersome as he is… He’s nervous to see what kind of hell would break loose if Belial went unsupervised.

So, the demon tags along. It makes for very, very awkward hangout sessions. Especially with Vane, who seems to have an especially-potent disdain for him.

“I don’t know,” he says while they’re talking one day. Belial had settled some ways away when they had gone out, and Gran eyes him warily from where he’s sitting. Vane chews thoughtfully on a sandwich. “I figure, if he was going to do anything to any of us, he’d have already done it. There’s just no reason to really be that scared of him, you know?”

Vane grunts. “I guess,” he says. “It just bothers me that something so… Dangerous, is hanging around. I’m a knight-- keeping people safe is what I do, you know?” He stretches out his legs in the grass, falling back and closing his eyes to relax. Gran tries not to stare at the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, keeping his head fixed forward. 

“I know,” Gran agrees, gaze falling towards the half-eaten sandwich in front of him. Vane had made the food himself, and offered to take Gran with him for a picnic. The gesture had made Gran so nervous that he’d paced his room the entire night, unsure of how he was going to be able to handle being so close to the guy. It’s still nerve wracking and he’s already there, the thought of which makes his heart speed up a little. As if on cue, Belial looks over at him from where he’s made himself comfortable in the distance, which makes Gran feel even worse. He hadn’t said anything about it, thank god, but Gran still isn’t sure if the beast knows enough about human emotions to get what he’s going through and how tender a subject it can be.

If Belial has any intention of sabotaging their day out together, he doesn’t show it, instead going back to gazing up at the sky and minding his own business. 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh im not that far in gbf and dont really know whats going on + i'm really bad at it so like. lmk how it is lol


End file.
